


A Dragon

by liddie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, Dragon!Shiro, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, an iconic bath scene, captive!Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-17 17:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liddie/pseuds/liddie
Summary: On the day of his wedding, Prince Lance is carried away by a fearsome creature of old. The remote island is a prison and the dragon his keeper, although Lance is not completely alone. A mysterious man named Shiro is also a prisoner of the dragon, but as Lance learns just who he is, he comes to realize there is more to Shiro than he first thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> has anyone seen the Russian fantasy film 'I Am Dragon?' No, just me? Okay XD  
> this is my shance take on that film, although I did change some things!!
> 
> btw the rest of the story is already written! I just need to finish up edits (ugh) and then I can post it! I'm hoping to have it done by the end of the weekend 🤞✨
> 
> a special thanks to Lina and Ko for suffering through this with me (against your will lol) ❤️❤️❤️  
> Ko drew Lance in a scene from the movie that you can [find here✨](https://twitter.com/nsf_ko/status/1090763928643219457)

                                               

* * *

 

Everyone gathered is dressed in their finest, the ocean blues and golds of Altea's royal family melding with the deep purple of Daibazaal's Prince Lotor in a symbol of the union about to take place. The city is covered in snow, the lake in the middle so calm and still it could be glass.

Lance wears a soft white ceremonial robe with intricate embroidery and beaded designs. The high collar is piled with layers of jewelry and necklaces that loop down the front of his chest in varying lengths, hiding his neck from his soon-to-be husband. A matching crown of white fabric and lace sits delicately on his head.

Looking out at the crowd gathered Lance can't help but take a step back. A warm hand lands on his shoulder and Lance turns to see his father standing beside him. “You are about to embark on a new journey,” he says, draping a red beaded necklace around Lance’s neck, the color standing out against the white and silvers. Lance smiles weakly and turns to face the crowd once more.

The pathway leading to a small boat has been decorated without limit, flags of blue and gold waving in the icy breeze that carries a chill of snowflakes. The watery inlet that leads out to the sea is calm and there are flower petals floating on its surface.

“What if I'm afraid?” Lance's voice is barely a whisper. His fingers play with a paper dragon he had made earlier to pass the time.

“It's alright to be afraid,” King Alfor says, giving Lance's shoulder a squeeze. “You will learn to love Lotor and he will love you. The rest will follow with time, as it should.”

Lance nods, giving his father a small smile. A knock at the door pulls King Alfor from Lance's side and when his name is called Lance sets the paper dragon on the balcony railing and walks toward the door. Toward a new life.

A gust of wind gathers the paper creature and sends it soaring into the sky.

 

* * *

 

The old dragon song fills the air as Lance settles into the small boat, candles and flowers arranged around him, small trinkets presented to him to take with him to Daibazaal. Everyone that has come to watch the union is singing, their voices carrying over the icy water as Lance is pushed from one side of the lake toward the other.

Toward Lotor, his future husband.

The boat rocks gently and Lance watches gray the sky, snowflakes drifting down on the breeze. He feels when the rope tied around the end of the boat is pulled, Lotor reeling in his prize.

The wind shifts in a sudden gust and the sky darkens. The gathered crowd becomes quiet, their breath clouding the cold air. Sitting up a bit Lance knocks a candle into the water, a _whooshing_ sound pulling his gaze skyward.

Large, leathery wings block out the blurry sun and Lance's knuckles turn white where they grip the edges of the wooden boat. Terror claws its way through the prince but he can't move. People begin to scream and cry out, Lance's heart jumping into his throat as the beast of nightmares and stories tears across the sky.

It lets out a furious roar.

Dragon.

The creature is as beautiful as it is terrifying, the iron-strong scales gleaming dark in the evening light. It folds its wings and swoops down, heading straight for Lance who is stranded in the middle of the lake. Sharp claws scrape the edges of the boat and dunk it under the water, cutting off the scream as Lance is plunged into searing cold. Pain bursts across his left side as something sharp digs into him and the screaming begins anew when he's lifted up, powerful wings lifting them high into the sky.

The terrible beast of old carries its prize away.

 

* * *

 

Lance isn't sure how long they fly nor how far. He drifts in and out of consciousness, the pain in his side radiating through his entire body, limbs hanging limp from within the prison of the dragon's sharp claws.

Long gone are the familiar sights of home, the snow capped mountains and calm lake that were once Lance's prison and his sanctuary. Now thick clouds blanket the sky, offering the briefest glimpses of barren rock hitting up from the sea.

It begins to storm at some point and Lance is jolted to awareness as the dragon lets out a roar, the prince's tears indistinguishable from the rain that soaks his body. In a crack of lightning he sees a skeletal island up ahead, the dragon aiming for a small opening in the side of a tall cliff.

They land hard and Lance is released, body tumbling across the unforgiving stone floor. He lets out a cry as he topples over the edge of a large pit, the sensation of falling making his stomach drop.

 

* * *

 

When Lance comes too he's laying curled up in a pile of musty fabric, his once pristine clothing torn and ruined. Every limb that he moves to sit up sends a fresh wave of pain through him and Lance looks down at his side to see a bright bloom of blood across his robe.

“Don't move around,” a rough voice commands, Lance's head whipping up to look around for the source of it. “You'll only aggravate your wounds.”

“Who—” Lance's throat burns and he lifts a shaking hand to rub it. “Who are you? Where am I?”

The man ignores the questions. “To your left,” he says and Lance sees a flask of water there. Drinking from it greedily Lance spills most of it down his chin but the cool water helps the raw feeling of his throat. He coughs, wiping at his face.

“Where are we?” He tries again, seeing only jagged plains of stone around him.

The voice comes again from the right. “Do you not remember?”

“I...” Lance looks down at his side again, his wedding outfit ruined by a large puncture mark stained at the edges in red. The dragon that had stolen him away. “The dragon,” he whispers in fear.

“Yes, the dragon brought you here.” The man's voice is sharp, filled with an odd frustration. It quiets as he continues. “You're his prisoner.”

Lance looks around to find the source of the voice that seems to come from everywhere. “Is that what you are?”

Silence descends for a long while before a reply comes. “Yes.”

“Can we not escape? Is there no way?”

“This island is our prison.” The sound of shuffling comes and Lance tries to track it despite his weariness and the pain in his side. His head throbs and he nearly doubles over when he tries to stand.

Lance's legs wobble and he wraps an arm around his middle, blood dribbling between his fingers. The hitch in his breathing hasn’t faded and there's a persistent buzzing sound that he can't quite locate. When he takes a step forward his balance shifts off its axis and he stumbles, a warm arm catching him carefully although Lance winces at the fresh pain the movement brings.

“I told you not to move around,” the voice growls, the man carefully lowering Lance down onto the makeshift bed. Blinking his eyes open Lance sees the figure silhouetted against the light from the opening of the pit. Wide eyes watch him and the stranger curses when Lance's lids feel too heavy to keep open. “Hey, stay awake.”

“Lance,” the prince mumbles. “My name is Lance.” His body feels so heavy and the pain is ebbing as he begins to drift.

“Lance, open your eyes.”

Surprisingly, Lance does. His vision is filled with golden eyes and long dark hair run through with pure white, the strands illuminated by fractured moonlight. The man has a sharp jawline and a jagged scar across the bridge of his nose. He's chewing something that he spits into his hand, a flash of pain echoing through Lance's side.

“You've been hurt,” Lance mumbles on the verge of consciousness. Lifting his hand takes energy he can't afford to waste but he does it anyway, the gentle touch to the rough scar tissue making the man freeze completely. Those golden eyes widen and Lance tries to smile reassuringly. “It'll be okay.”

His eyes flutter shut a second later and his hand falls limply to the ground as darkness swallows him again.

* * *

 

With a huff Lance falls backward onto the ground, his hands bleeding from the scratches he’s earned trying to climb the side of the pit. A large gash from a jagged rock splits his palm. The wounds sting but the pain dulls when compared to the growing disappoint at each failure of escape.

Scooting until his back presses up against the wall Lance wipes his palms on his thighs. Bringing his legs up the young prince curls into a ball and buries his face in his knees.

He counts to ten and takes a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the prickling in the corners of his eyes. He won't cry, not anymore. Too many tears have been wasted already.

With a heavy sigh Lance pushes up to his feet and looks at the ledge of the pit. “Hello?” He calls out, voice echoing off the stone. “Please! If you won't let me out, then at least talk to me!”

Silence is the only answer. In a stab of frustration Lance balls a hand and slams it against the stone. “You stupid lizard! Let. Me. Out!”

A sudden roar fills the cavern and Lance startles back, the blood trickling down his hand and wrist completely forgotten as the ground shakes. A low rumbling growl sends Lance's hair standing on end and he looks up, rubble and small stones falling down into the pit.

Long, sharp talons curve over the stone and a monstrous form blocks out nearly all the light. The scales are a pattern of onyx and charcoal, the ones covering his underbelly a silver that seems to glow in the low light. The short spines down the dragon’s back and ridges over its eyes are dusted with white, opalescent scales.

The glowing yellow eyes search the pit and Lance is frozen in place. The dragon snorts, lips pulling back to show off rows of knife-like teeth. His nostrils flare and sharp yellow eyes narrow on Lance and his freely bleeding fist.

The dragon bellows out a furious roar and Lance’s legs jerk into motion, carrying him a few steps to hide in a small alcove. A gust of wind washes over him and Lance peeks out to see the dragon lurch away, barreling back out of sight.

Turning his gaze back downward Lance once again buries his face in his knees, squeezing his eyes shut to stem his tears.

 

* * *

 

Grilled fish and root vegetables. Again. Lance picks at the meal, casting hopeful glances up at the lip of the pit. “Will you let me out of here?” He calls but silence is his only answer.

Lance places a hand on his side and tests the sore area. It still hurts but not as bad as before. Time ran together for a long while when he was fighting a fever and Lance can no longer tell how many days have passed since he's been down in this pit.

His knuckles are still wrapped hastily in a strip of clean linen, the herb paste doing wonders for healing.

Thunder crashes overhead and Lance jumps at the sudden sound, watching a flash of lightning illuminate the cavern overhead.

“You're safer where you are.” A tired voice says, sounding rough and ragged.

Frowning, Lance bites off a chunk of grilled fish in desperate need of some seasoning. He chews and swallows before answering, the words bitter in his mouth. “So you're just waiting for me to die.” It's not a question.

“You are not dead.”

“Not yet.” There's a desperate lit to Lance's voice and he gets to his feet. Placing his hands on the rough stone he looks up. “But I will be soon. I need sunlight, fresh air. To walk around in the open. I need to know I'm not alone.”

The voice scoffs. Soon the mysterious man who had grudgingly nursed Lance back to health is standing by the ledge of the pit. His long hair is tied back high, the ends flicking in the breeze. Bruises cover his bare chest, along with scars and a few scratches that bleed freely. “Is the company of a dragon so much better than being alone?”

The question confuses Lance. He hasn't heard the dragon's growl or agitated roar in a few days now, but the voice of the man who is reluctant to get any closer to Lance than they are now has been a constant presence.

Leaning in Lance rests his forehead on the cool stone. “I would stand before the dragon this very moment if it meant I could feel the sunlight on my face.”

When there is no response from above Lance realizes he's been left alone again. Tears of frustration pool in the corners of his eyes but he brushes them away.

A few pieces of crumbling rock fall and Lance looks up, watching what looks like embers swirl in the air above the pit. Seconds later a large form leans over the edge of the rock, the dragon's sharp eyes fixed on the prince.

Shock jumpstarts Lance's heart and he backs up until his body bumps against the far wall. He can't look away from the dragon so he stands frozen, waiting for the beast to swoop down and finishes him off. More rock falls when the dragon shifts and Lance looks down to avoid it, a gust of wind ruffling his hair. Swearing softly he sucks in a breath at the sound of large wings beating steadily.

When something strong and nearly hot to the touch wraps around Lance's middle his eyes fly open, hands scraping along scales for a good hold as he's lifted in the air. The grip around him is tight, his side beginning to throb although nothing punctures him like those wicked claws had done the last time the dragon carried him.

Before he realizes it Lance is dropped onto the stone of the cave floor a few feet from the edge of the pit. The dragon swoops down to land halfway across the cavern and tumbles unsteadily, letting out a low growl as scales dissolve into millions of tiny embers, a man left kneeling in its place.

The man from earlier.

Getting to his feet Lance takes a step back. This whole time he was never another of the dragon's prisoners.

But... maybe he is. In his own way.

A soft _thump_ pulls Lance from his thoughts and he sees the man has passed out on the ground. Confusion wars inside the prince and he looks toward the cavern opening, to the sheets of rain falling and the choppy waves of an unforgiving sea. But in the end he slowly makes his way across the space between himself and the prone body.

The first thing Lance notices upon getting closer is that the man only has one arm. Nearly the entire limb is missing from just above his right elbow, the wound scarred over and healed for what looks like a long time. Other scars litter his body as well; some jagged and others curved like bite marks, the new skin lighter than the rest.

_'He's strangely beautiful,'_ Lance thinks and the realization startles him. Shaking his head Lance kneels down beside the man—the _dragon_. He checks for a pulse and then attempts to turn him over, palm resting over his forehead to check his temperature, his eyes fixed upward to the high ceiling to avoid the state of undress.

He removes what little is left of his torn wedding tunic and drapes it across the man's nakedness. It's not the best solution yet it's still something.

There's not much Lance can do but wait so he gets as comfortable as he can, pillowing the man's head in his lap and sliding careful fingers through his loose hair. Like this he seems harmless. Human.

“What are you?” Lance murmurs quietly, fingers tracing the edge of the scar across the man's nose. No reply comes and Lance sighs, leaning against the wall and letting his eyes drift shut.

The steady falling rain lulls him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Shiro,” the man grunts, tugging on a pair of threadbare breeches.

Lance has turned away to offer some semblance of privacy, cheeks hot. “Shiro?”

Using a thin scrap of leather around his wrist the man ties his hair back in a high tail. “My name. If you must, call me Shiro.”

Peeking over his shoulder Lance stares at the span of Shiro’s broad shoulders. He's scarred, yes. But there's a beauty in the power of his build. “Right,” Lance says after a moment of staring too long. “I'm Lance.”

Shiro looks at him, raising a brow. “I know.”

“Right, yes. Well.” Lance gets to his feet and brushes dust from his ragged breeches. “I'd very much like you to return me back home now. I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Shiro's face falls into a blank, hard mask. “No,” he says simply, turning to walk out of the mouth of the cave.

Lance scrambles after him. “Wait! Shiro, you can't just…” With a yelp Lance pitches back from the steep cliff ledge, a salty breeze stirring his hair. His heart beats frantically at the sudden scare and he sees Shiro standing a few feet away.

The dragon man is smirking, his toes practically hanging off the edge of the cliff. “Are you afraid?”

“Of heights? Or or dragons?” Lance snaps back, Shiro's face falling back into a blank expression.

Another gust of salty air rises from the sea and Lance presses himself further against the stone. Shiro turns without a word, taking a narrow path down the side of the cliff.

Lance calls out to him but he doesn't slow or turn around. With a soft swear Lance makes his way back into the cold cave just as the first raindrops begin to fall.

Huddling against the stone wall Lance wraps his arms around his legs, trying to suppress a shiver as he watches sheets of water fall from the sky.

He falls asleep before Shiro comes back.

 

* * *

 

Lance grunts as he hefts a large rock up and carries it across the cave. He sets it down with a huff, eyeing the ring that will hopefully be a decent fire pit.

Casting his gaze around the sparse cave Lance worries his bottom lip. He's loathe to get too close to the cliff, just in case Shiro would decide to sneak up on him and push him back into the dismal prison.

Instead Lance skirts the large pit and digs up three more decent sized rocks to complete the protective ring.

“Perfect.” Giving his work a nod Lance slides a forearm across his forehead. He crouched down and gets to work, using a flat stone to dig as much of an indentation within the ring as the floor will allow.

He looks up when a shadow moves along the wall. Shiro stands there watching, face impassive.

“So glad you've graced me with your presence,” Lance says, mumbling softer to himself. “When all the heavy lifting is done, of course.”

“I can hear you.”

“I care not.” Standing up Lance wipes his dusty hands on his pants. “I need your help.”

Shiro's eyes narrow suspiciously. “With what?”

“I need some wood.” Lance gestures to his slightly lopsided fire pit. “For a fire.”

The dragon looks from the ring of stones to the prince. “Why do you need a fire?”

Lance huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, for warmth! And to cook stuff.”

“That's frivolous. Your meals are provided and the climate here is reasonably warm.”

Throwing his arms up Lance lets out a groan. “That's not the point! I need something to do, to pass the time. I'm a decent enough cook, I think.” He nudges the ring of stones with a bare toe.

“I don't have time for this.” Shiro turns to head back out of the cave and Lance’s patience snaps.

Reaching down he grabs a smaller stone and throws it with all of his might at Shiro.

The dragon whirls around and snaps a hand up, catching the stone with his eyes fixed on Lance. “That was bold.” He makes a fist, the rock crumbling in his hand.

Lance takes a step back when Shiro advances, shifting his leg back to steady himself and draw up as tall as he can muster. He meets Shiro's glare with one of his own, raising a brow.

Shiro’s lip curls up in a soft snarl that sends a chill down Lance's spine, but he stands his ground. The sound tapers off into a laugh and Lance is more surprised at _that_ sound than the growl.

“Okay, little prince,” Shiro says, lips quirked in amusement. “I'll bring you some wood.”

Shoulders sagging in relief Lance nods, then straightens again. “Good. Thank you.”

He watches Shiro head out of the cave, body slumping as soon as the dragon vanishes from view. Lifting a hand Lance presses it over his rabbiting heart, trying to calm the erratic beating.

A while later Shiro dumps a large handful of driftwood onto the floor beside the pit. Lance's happiness lasts only minutes before he realizes he has no flint to start an actual fire.

Shiro's laugh echoes in the cave.

 

* * *

 

After days spent in the empty cave with only a few threadbare blankets Lance decides he's been patient enough.

“I can't stay in that cave anymore, it's completely miserable.”

Hands on his hips Lance watches Shiro in the shallow water, a fishing spear held in his hand. When he gets ignored Lance grabs a small pebble and throws it at the dragon. “If you keep ignoring me, I'll just get more annoying. I’ve been told that I can be very persistent.”

Letting out a huff Shiro lowers the spear and looks up. “Are you not sheltered from the elements in the cave? Is it not suitable for living, opposed to the pit?”

Lance makes a face when he remembers the pit he woke up in when this whole thing started. “It's sheltered, yes. But it needs… it's so empty!”

Shiro shifts his gaze down the beach where sand gives way to unforgiving rock. Lance follows and can see the tangle of broken bows and fallen masts. A smile brightens his face when Shiro turns back to look at him.

The dragon lets out a sigh. “Come on, then. It won't hurt to look.”

 

\---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

 

It turns out there are dozens of wrecked ships along the rocks. Lance hauls a few of the smaller trunks up onto the sand and Shiro adds unbroken crates and clothing chests beside the pile. They find dozens of outdated outfits; billowy tunics that swamp Lance's lithe frame comically and tight breeches that Shiro turns his nose up at.

Lance finds a crate of dresses and cuts the skirt off of a few of the more simple ones with a jeweled dagger. When he slides the soft fabric over his head he's pleased to see it fits like a long tunic. “How does it look?” He asks Shiro, flushing when the dragon's gaze lingers. “Here,” Lance mumbles, throwing a pillow at Shiro. “This goes in the keep pile.”

They sort through large rugs and bolts of fabric, deciding between multiple pillows and an assortment of maps and books. There's even a chest of polished dinnerware. The clothing and blankets get washed in the sea, Lance tossing a wet sheet up and letting it flutter down over top of Shiro with a laugh.

In retaliation Shiro spreads a rug out over the water and hauls Lance with his arm, tossing the other man onto the rug and watching them both sink into the sea. When Lance comes up laughing he gets tangled in the fabric and they both crash into the water.

With one hand Shiro drags an ornate blanket through the sea and Lance clings to it, the two of them dissolving into laughter as the waves crash over them. When they become tired and their limbs grow heavy they spread the fabrics along the rocks to dry and collapse into the sand to catch their breath.

“Now we've got to carry everything up to the cavern,” Shiro says, turning his head to look at Lance. His long hair sticks to his cheek and neck.

“Ugh, don't remind me.” Lance smiles up at the blue sky, his hair already beginning to dry and curl at odd angles. “How far can dragons fly?”

Rolling to lay on his side Shiro pillows his head on a hand, watching Lance. “Very far. The winds helps guide us, we can ride the currents in the air. They're beautiful.”

Lance raises his head. “Are you saying you can see the wind?”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow. “Are you saying that you cannot?”

Lance's laugh is carefree. “People can't see the wind, Shiro.” He settles back down on the sand, lifting a hand up as if to catch a cloud. “It's impossible.” Lance closes his eyes after a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the lull of the waves.

It doesn't take long for the young prince to fall asleep and when he does Shiro glances over at the pile of things they are keeping. The sand doesn't move as he gets to his feet.

 

\---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----

 

“I can't believe you brought it all up by yourself.”

Lance stands in the mouth of the cavern and stares at the crates and trunks stacked off to the side. There has to be at least thirty of them.

Shiro shrugs. “I like to keep busy.”

Turning to the dragon Lance offers him a smile. “Well that's good, since we have to unpack everything now.”

“You mean _you_ have to unpack everything.” Shiro takes a step back. “I brought it up here, so you—Lance!”

Throwing himself at Shiro Lance tries to tackle him, Shiro's arm coming up to wrap around his middle as they rock backward. “Oh—ah!” Losing his balance Shiro falls into the pile of blankets and pillows closest to them, Lance tucked snug against his chest.

Laughter builds in Lance's chest as he places his hands on either side of Shiro's shoulders and pushes himself up. “Oops,” he grins, looking down to see Shiro watching him.

Shiro's body is warm and solid beneath him and Lance's grin falters. Pushing up to stand  quickly he dusts himself off as Shiro gets to his feet. Spinning around Lance looks at the massive pile to sort through. “Well, better get started,” he says while grabbing the large rug and tugging it free.

He loops it over a wooden mast spanning between the wall and a huge rock and looks around the cavern to create a floor plan. Shiro disappears at some point and Lance feels the heat of the transformation lick his back but is too focused to turn toward the entrance.

Instead he throws himself into unpacking crates and digging through trunks. He creates two sleeping areas, one on either side of the main area. In Shiro's he lays out rich jewel-toned fabrics and blankets, royal purples and reds accented with gold. In his own he collects shades of blue, hanging up smaller scraps of fabric onto the 'walls.' During a small break he ties tiny seashells onto a swath of sheer fabric and hangs it over his bed like a canopy.

Shiro arrives a while later with wooden skewers of grilled fish and a bowl of roasted vegetables. They eat in the small living area with an upturned crate as their table, Lance producing two goblets with a flourish and filling them from a bucket of collected rain water.

Once they've finished eating Shiro offers his help and Lance puts him to work moving trunks around and beating the dust from extra rugs, then shows him the pile of things he can decorate his space with. Shiro doesn't take much from it, although Lance watches him eye up the bottom part of the blue dress Lance cut his tunic from. It's gone the next time Lance goes to the pile to fetch something.

They lay the rugs out across the floor and Lance scolds Shiro when he tries to walk across them with his dirty feet. “Don't even think about it,” he says while waving a finger at Shiro. “I don't care if you're a dragon or a man, do not walk on the clean floor without washing up first.”

Shiro throws his hand up in exasperation and stomps out of the cave. Lance gets up from his seat on a fluffy pillow and goes to peer out, leaning against the stone and watching with a fond smile as Shiro stops at a small pool in the rock and begins washing up.

He ducks away before Shiro can see him, pressing his back against the warm stone and smiling at nothing.

 

* * *

 

Lance hums an old song his mother used to sing as he sits on the wide edge that juts out around the cliff. A shallow bowl filled with petals of the flowers that grow along the rocks sits between his legs. The breeze keeps tugging at his hair and the frayed ends of his makeshift tunic playfully.

When Shiro comes to stand beside him Lance sits up a bit straighter. “Will you show me the wind?” Lance says loftily, lifting his hands up and wiggling his fingers in the breeze.

“I thought you said people couldn't see the wind,” Shiro teases as he moves to sit behind Lance. Their legs brush and Lance soaks up Shiro's body heat, just barely stopping himself from leaning back against his bare chest.

“They normally can't,” Lance agrees. “But you can. So teach me and we'll find out if I really can't.”

Moving his arm up in front of Lance Shiro holds a single petal from the bowl between his fingers. He lets it go and the wind takes it, but to Lance's surprise it doesn't immediately drift out of reach. The petal floats before them, suspended in the air with a lazy rocking motion.

Lance lets out a breath and it shifts, spiraling upward on a draft. More petals join it, undulating through the air like sea serpents, twisting in an unseen dance.

“Close your eyes,” Shiro instructs quietly, placing petals in Lance's hand and cupping it with his own. “And look into the distance, further than you can see when your eyes are open.”

Closing his eyes Lance leans back against Shiro and his warmth. When the dragon speaks, his voice tickles Lance's ear.

“Feel the wind with your fingertips, listen as it whispers. Feel it on your skin and in your heart.”

The breeze glides over Lance like a caress, a physical touch as real as Shiro against him.

“Open your eyes and let them go,” Shiro whispers into Lance's ear, resting his chin on the younger man's shoulder.

Lance raises his palm up and the colorful petals lift from his hand one by one, the wind playing with them in a lazy pattern. “Shiro,” Lance laughs softly, his eyes fixed on the petals and the wisps of air that curl with them. “It's beautiful.”

“It is,” Shiro murmurs, never taking his eyes off Lance.

 

* * *

 

The loud and sudden crash startles Lance and he jerks up in bed, head whipping around to try and locate the source of the noise. He pushes the blankets down and stumbles to his feet, a low growl rumbling through his bones.

Looking around Lance sees Shiro’s bed empty, torn blankets laying strewn halfway between the bed and the cavern opening. A few have burnt edges and tiny holes from smouldering embers.

“Shiro?” Lance asks, stepping deeper into the darkened part of the cave. They’ve piled empty crates there in front of the pit that Lance has all but forgotten about until now. “Shiro?” He calls again, venturing into the dark.

The answering growl makes the hair on Lance’s neck and arms stand on end. A glow illuminates the dark and Lance leans against the cold cavern wall, looking up toward the source of the light and finding golden eyes fixed on him.

“Shiro,” he whispers, the dragon snarling suddenly at the name. It shows no trace of recognition and Lance takes a step back. “You are not yourself.”

The fearsome creature shakes his head sharply and the growl spilling from his mouth rattles the very stone in the cave. The dragon’s chest and neck begin to light with in hues of orange and red, smoke rising from flared nostrils.

It bellows out a stream of fire suddenly and Lance barely has enough time to duck between a thin crack in the rock. The fire licks at the edges of the stone, turning it the pitch black color of soot.

With his heart hammering in his chest Lance slams his eyes shut and listens to the dragon crashing around in the deep confines of the cavern. It growls and roars loud enough to rival thunder, fire spilling from deep within and licking harmlessly at the walls. It rages deep within the darkness of the cave, crashing into boulders and screeching when the pointed spears of rock break free from the ceiling and crash to the ground.

Trapped, Lance slides down to sit within the narrow crevasse and draws his knees up tight against his chest. He closes his eyes and remembers the songs his mother would sing when he was young, the stories she would tell to help him fall back asleep after a nightmare.

It’s impossible to tell how much time passes, and when the dragon quiets Lance remains in his memories of long ago. He jumps when a soft noise comes from beside him. Shiro kneels on the ground with bloody knees, his hand outstretched for Lance. There are new cuts and scrapes spread out over his tattered body but his focus is solely on the young prince before him, guilt plain on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, throat dry. The look on his face is pleading, fingers shaking where they’re held aloft. “Forgive me.”

Without too much thought or fear Lance places his hand in Shiro’s and allows himself to be helped out of the tight space. As soon as he’s free Shiro leans in heavily and embraces Lance, burying his face in the prince’s shoulder.

“I thought.. I couldn’t find you,” he confesses, voice thick and rough and haunted. He hugs Lance as close as he can with one arm, Lance’s hand petting through the soft hair at the back of his neck.

“We need to clean your wounds,” Lance murmurs into Shiro’s shoulder. It takes a while but Shiro finally pulls back, allowing Lance to take his hand. Together they head back to the living area of the cavern, Lance doing his best not to shiver to flinch at the rubble and broken wreckage strewn about.

He sits Shiro on a rock and pulls out the small kit of herbs and pastes, carefully cleaning Shiro’s wounds in the low candlelight.

They don’t speak about what happened, Lance flicking his eyes up every now and then to see a haunted, distant look on Shiro’s face. When he finally blows out the candle and lays down to sleep Lance notices Shiro at the mouth of the cave, standing guard and staring out at the rolling sea.

 

* * *

 

“Shiro,” Lance murmurs as he tilts his head to see the man lying beside him. “Why did you come for me?”

The wind from the sea rolls off the walls of the cavern like a whispered lullaby. “Your people sang the song,” he replies after a few moments, just as quiet. “It is my curse to come when summoned.”

Biting his tongue to prevent himself from asking the obvious question about being taken back Lance rolls onto his stomach, the thick rug beneath them acting as a barrier between the cold stone of the cavern floor. Lance lets his eyes drift around and over the things they've pulled from wrecked ships on the island's rocky shoreline, the flickering firelight casting shadows along the walls.

Lance's eyes come to rest on Shiro and he traces the slopes and curves of Shiro's human body, over expanses of muscle beneath heated skin and across the scars that have been carved into him.

His eyes land where Shiro's arm has been torn away above his elbow, the scar tissue so coarse and discolored Lance wonders if it ever stopped hurting. Before he can stop himself Lance reaches forward and brushes his fingertips over the jagged edge of the long-healed wound. “What happened here?”

Shiro's golden eyes open at the touch. Turning his head he watches Lance, holding him captive with his gaze. “My mother died minutes after my birth, but I was raised by my father. He was a dragon and my beginning was just like those in the stories, the fair maiden spirited away and forced to bear a child she didn’t want.” Pausing Shiro flicks his eyes away from Lance and toward the ceiling, pupils widening to adjust to the dark. “When I was six a man arrived on the island, so full of anger and hate. He was in love with my mother and had been searching for her since she had been taken.”

Perking up a little Lance frowns. “He found his way here?”

Nodding Shiro closes his eyes, arm tucked beneath his head.  “And he found me first. When he realized what I was he become overcome by rage and drew his sword to attack. I am lucky this was all I lost.” Silence settles over them like a thick fog.

Lance’s voice is barely above a whisper. “What happened to him?”

“My father found us before I could lose my life along with my arm.” Shiro doesn’t elaborate more than that and Lance doesn’t ask. After a while he turns his head to look at Lance. “Why do your people sing the songs of old?”

“We thought...” Slowly, carefully Lance traces his fingertips over Shiro's arm. Lifting his eyes he looks at the dragon. “We thought we were safe. We thought there were no dragons left.”

Closing his eyes Shiro turns toward the ceiling once more. “You were wrong.” There's something in his voice that pulls at Lance, an aching loneliness that has been absent the past few weeks.

Lance can't help but want to chase it away.

“Shiro, I...” But Lance doesn't get to finish. Shiro gets to his feet fluidly and makes for the cavern entrance, Lance scrambling up onto his knees to follow. “Wait, Shiro!”

Stopping in the mouth of the cavern Shiro speaks without turning around, shoulders stiff with tension. “Stay here. Get some sleep.”

“I—”

But Shiro doesn't wait. In a shower of sparks he transforms into the beast that had stolen Lance from his wedding day and brought him to this island prison. The sleek black dragon roars before taking to the skies and disappearing into the night, leaving Lance alone in the makeshift home they've built.

Walking over to the archway Lance leans against the cool stone. “Shiro,” Lance mumbles as he peers out into the night, waves crashing against the rocks below.

Instead of settling down into his pile of plush fabrics and pillows Lance grabs one and wraps it around himself, settling down on the floor by the cavern entrance. Leaning against the cool stone wall he watches the clear night sky until he drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes in the morning there are soft blankets beneath him instead of the rocky floor. Rolling onto his back Lance looks up at the tiny seashells woven into the sheer canopy of his sleeping area and listens for Shiro's soft snoring.

The only thing he hears are waves and gulls.

Pushing the blanket off Lance sits up and runs a hand through his hair to push it back. He slaps his cheeks a few times to help wake up and then gets to his feet, stepping out of bed and finding two ripe fruits waiting for him as breakfast.

Picking one up he makes his way out of the cavern and down the path that leads to the shoreline. The sweet juice rubs down Lance's chin when he bites into the fruit and he curses, trying to wipe the mess away without becoming more sticky than he already is.

By the time he makes it to the sand his breakfast is gone. Lance reels his arm back and tosses the pit as far into the sea as he can, wondering if it will ever find another shore.

Gulls cry out overhead and Lance lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, watching the scrawny birds swoop along foamy waters. Further down the beach he sees a figure in the knee-deep water that can only be Shiro tossing a net into the sea.

Instead of going to him Lance looks around the rocky plateau that descends into the water and his eyes light up. The young man strips off his tunic and tosses it to the sand, carefully picking his way along the slippery rocks and taking up the fishing spear Shiro has likely abandoned.

The tip of it is sharp and Lance tests the weight in his hand. Giving himself a nod he moves out a little further on the flat rock and looks into the clear water below.

Shiro finds him in the same spot a while later. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring the attempt to break his concentration Lance watches the water. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

Shiro eyes the weapon in Lance's hand, feet shifting in the sand. Without a sound Lance jabs the spear into the water. Turning toward Shiro he pulls the spear out of the water and shows off the two fish stuck at the end.

“You caught something.” The surprise in Shiro's voice makes Lance huff.

“I know how to fish,” he mumbles, walking over to the basket wedged between two rocks, half floating in the cool water. He slides the fish into it and tugs it free, pushing it toward Shiro.

“I didn't think...” Shiro trails off when he sees the pile of fish in the basket. There has to be at least ten.

“Didn't think I'd knew how to do something like this? I'm a prince, not an invalid.” Letting the spear tip fall into the water Lance holds onto the wooden shaft, watching Shiro keep the basket from floating away. “Do you need more than that?”

Shaking his head Shiro looks from the fish to Lance. “Thank you.”

Lance picks the spear up and carefully makes his way off the rocky plateau. “I told you to let me help out more,” he mumbles. His foot slides on a slick patch of seaweed and he pitches forward, a hand latching onto Shiro's shoulder for balance. The skin beneath his palm is warm, almost hot. “Sorry,” he says while straightening up.

“You may be a prince,” Shiro comments as he hefts the basket up to rest against his hip. They begin the trek up the path toward the cavern. Tilting his head Shiro offers Lance a grin. “But you _are_ clumsy.”

“I am _not_!”

 

* * *

 

“Do you think Lotor will come for me?”

Shiro stares out at the endless sea. “If you love him, your heart will guide him here.”

Lance remembers the story Shiro had told him, about the first maiden that was stolen away and her love who came for her. By the time he had arrived the maiden was dead, but he in turn had slayed the dragon, one of Shiro's ancestors.

Turning his gaze from the waves Shiro looks at Lance. “Will Lotor come for you?”

It's a question Lance has asked himself more than once, yet he doesn't know the answer to. Looking down at the flowers in his hand Lance tosses them over the cliff and they watch the wind catch them, the blossoms dancing on the air as they fall to the sea below.

Lance never answers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second and last part! Thank you for all the amazing support for this story! I'm glad that people are enjoying it! 💖

* * *

The natural spring is a series of tiered pools, the edge of one spilling seamlessly into another and then over the edge of the steep cliff. Lush, blooming vegetation encloses the beautiful bath and Lance feels like he's stepped into a dream.

Slipping out of his clothing Lance dips his toes into the nearest pool and his excitement swells. It's not cold but warm, the perfect temperature for a good soak.

The gray rock that the pool is carved from is smooth and comfortable, the water having worn away any sharp or jagged pieces over time. When Lance ducks down the water covers his shoulders and the young man lets out a sigh of pleasure.

Lance takes his time in the clear water, enjoying the feel of it loosening his muscles and clearing away the salt from sweat and the sea. He ducks under and scrubs at his hair with a bar of soap they had found in one of the shipwreck trunks, then swims lazily back and forth for a while to stretch his muscles.

Standing in the water that swirls around his hips Lance slides the soap up his arms, humming quietly to himself as he hears the sharp gasp behind him. Turning his head he sees Shiro standing there, holding back a hanging branch of a willow tree with genuine surprise blooming across his face.

Shiro's eyes are blown wide as he stares at Lance, his bare chest glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It's clear he was coming to bathe and when Lance lowers his arms the movement spurs Shiro into action.

“I'm sorry,” he says as he looks away, voice deep like a rumble of thunder. “I'll leave you to—”

“Join me?” When Shiro snaps his gaze back up Lance holds out a hand. His entire body is probably flushed but he might be able to blame that on the water. “Shiro?”

“I...uh...”

It's unusual to catch Shiro like this and Lance can't help but smile. “Come here. I'll help you wash and you can help me.”

After a few seconds Shiro nods, his hand coming up to the laces of his clothing. Lance turns to give him privacy and resumes lathering up the soap, trying to quell his blush. The disturbance of the water as Shiro enters the spring sends a shiver down Lance's spine and his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“You're frightened,” Shiro murmurs quietly, distressed. “I can bathe in the sea.”

Turning around Lance meets Shiro's eyes. “I'm not frightened.” And he's not, not of this Shiro who is so worried about him. The water curls around Lance's waist as he takes a step closer. “Lean down and get yourself wet,” he instructs and to his surprise Shiro does just that, first gathering his long hair up into a knot. When he stands back up the water drips off of him like a marble statue in the rain. “Here,” Lance hands Shiro the small bar of soap. “Wash yourself and I'll get your back.”

Shiro makes quick work of his front and arms as Lance moves behind him. It's not that Lance has never seen Shiro's back before, but being this close in such an intimate way is completely different. His touch is light when he places his hands on Shiro's back, feeling the muscles tense for a few seconds before it bleeds away.

There are more scars on Shiro's back than Lance would like, far too many. But he spreads the soapy bubbles and resumes humming, making sure to cover every inch of Shiro's skin. It's relaxing, to do this kind of thing. Lance wonders if he would have done this with Lotor, had they said their vows and been married.

Shaking the thoughts of the other prince from his head Lance reaches up to scratch soapy fingers through the long hair that unravels at his touch. The answer he gets is something between a growl and a purr, Lance's fingers stalling at the strange sound.

Shiro takes a step forward, a step away. “Sorry.”

“It's cute,” Lance smiles as he follows, pressing a kiss to Shiro's shoulder. He freezes when he realizes what he's done, Shiro tilting his head to look back at him.

“Sorry.” Lance backs up quickly and turns around. Scooping some water up he splashes it over his face, listening to Shiro rinse the bubbles from his skin and hair.

Lance isn't expecting the touch to his back but he doesn't tense up or move away. “I'll wash your back,” Shiro murmurs, fingers sliding along Lance's skin as if he's made of glass. The touch is gentle, one Lance has never known before.

Looking down Lance watches himself swell and ducks a little to hide it beneath the water.

“Are you okay?” Shiro's concern cuts through Lance and he nods quickly.

“Yes, I just... I need to sit for a minute.” Shiro hums in understanding and he ties his dripping hair up like usual. A moment later he reaches out and lets his fingers trace circles on Lance's shoulder, mimicking the motions Lance had done on him. It feels good, better than it should. Lance presses his fingers into his own thighs to stop them from touching himself. “Um.”

Shiro's fingers pause. “Do you want me to go?” There's nothing accusing in his voice, nothing to pressure Lance. He's simply asking, offering.

Shaking his head Lance takes a breath. “No, I don't.” He spreads his fingers out across the top of the water as Shiro resumes his task.

When Shiro finishes he cups water with his hand and rinses Lance's shoulders, breath warm on the peak of his shoulder when he stands back up. There are only inches between them. His hand finds Lance's hip and rests there lightly, Lance's breathing going up a hitch. “Lance, what's wrong?”

Instead of answering verbally Lance places his hand over Shiro's to guide it off his hip and across his abdomen. Slowly he moves lower, beneath the water and over sun-kissed skin.

Shiro's breath is hot against Lance's damp skin. “Lance,” he breathes in warning.

“Don't stop.” Lance closes his eyes and moves their hands down, until Shiro's brushes against his aching need. Where Lance's hands are smooth Shiro's is rough, calloused and oh so lovely when it wraps around him. “Shiro,” Lance murmurs, leaning back against the dragon's chest as Shiro's fingers explore the shape of him.

Pressing himself forward Shiro thumbs over Lance, his own erection fitting snugly against Lance's backside and causing his eyes to drift open. As Shiro strokes Lance he rocks his hips, the slick residue of soap making the slide against the prince's skin easier.

A few times Shiro's hips shift and he slips lower, rolling thrusts pressing him between the heat of Lance's thighs. It's snug and warm there, wet from the water and so very tight. When Lance glances down he can see past Shiro's hand on him and watches the head of his cock peek through wet thighs just beneath the water.

As Shiro's thumb rubs up the underside of Lance's cock he tilts his head back on the dragon's shoulder, breath coming in small pants. Shiro's so warm, almost too warm.

“I...” The nose that slides along his neck steals his breath. Lips follow, brushing just enough to tease.

When Shiro pulls away completely Lance's eyes fly open at the cool air that rushes between them. Before he can turn to look over his shoulder Shiro presses his hand to the small of Lance's back and pushes him forward a few steps.

“Bend over.”

The voice rumbles through Lance's back and down to his toes. Placing his hands on the smooth lip of the pool Lance leans in, feeling part foolish and part excited to be in such a position.

The heat of Shiro's body behind his own has Lance's fingertips pressing harder against the stone. When Shiro's chest molds against his back the prince does moan, hips stuttering forward into the hand that wraps around him in a tight grip.

When Shiro rolls his hips forward his cock slides between Lance's thighs and brushes against him just right. Once balanced he builds a steady rhythm that he matches with his hand, Lance rocking up onto his toes with the force of Shiro's thrusts.

And oh, does it feel good. Shiro's grip around him is steady but changing, his fist tightening one thrust and then loose and teasing the next. His cock is thick and hot between Lance's legs and the thought of it going inside of him pushes Lance over the edge Shiro's brought him to.

He spills in thick rivulets over Shiro's fingers and it drips into the pool, the gentle current taking it away as Shiro works him through the aftershocks that roll through his body. When Shiro stills his own hips Lance squeezes his thighs and reaches between them, rubbing damp fingers over the head of Shiro's cock and along the flared ridge.

A growl against his back is the only warning Lance gets before Shiro snaps his hips forward into the touch, Lance's hand on the rock slipping out from under him as he falls forward, one arm trapped beneath his body and his fingers brushing along Shiro's emptying cock.

Lance's flushed cheek presses against the stone and he feels Shiro's spend dripping off his hand and thighs, breath warm on the ball of his shoulder. Lance itches to move his fingers, to press one just inside of himself.

When Shiro pulls away Lance shivers at the lack of body heat. Shiro's arm carefully wraps around his middle and helps him upright, Lance turning to face the other man.

They both look at the mess on Lance's stomach and thighs. Suddenly self-conscious Lance steps away to a deeper part of the pool and drops down to his shoulders in the clear water. He watches the surface of the water but looks up when Shiro approaches him.

A warm hand cups Lance's cheek, thumb sliding over smooth skin. “You're bleeding.”

Pulling his head away Lance looks at his reflection in the water. There's a scrape along his cheekbone from when he had fallen forward, tiny beads of blood welling up from the raw skin. “Oh, it's not so bad.”

Shiro's hand cups his cheek again and Lance looks up at the dragon, breath hitching when Shiro leans in. But instead of a kiss Lance feels Shiro's tongue slide gently across the cut, clearing away the blood.

It makes his cheeks bloom three shades of red but he can't pull away. “S-Shiro!”

“I'm disinfecting it,” Shiro murmurs as he licks Lance again, oblivious to the way Lance's complexion darkens.

“I think it's fine,” Lance hurries to say, pressing a hand to Shiro's chest and pushing him back. “Feels better already. We should probably get out before these wrinkles become—hey!”

Bending slightly Shiro hooks his arm beneath Lance's butt and stands, lifting the other man up easily. Lance lets out a yelp and wraps his arms and legs around Shiro on instinct. “What are you doing?” His bare skin presses against Shiro's side and the overstimulation makes Lance bury his face in Shiro's shoulder.

“Your heart is beating too fast. And your legs won't hold you up long enough to make it to the cavern.” Ducking beneath the willow branch Shiro carries Lance down the stone pathway.

“I—yes they would! Shiro, you don't have to—”

Shiro interrupts. “I want to.”

Lance's mouth snaps shut as he accepts both the help and his defeat, flushed face pressed to Shiro's warm skin.

 

* * *

A few nights later Lance is tossing and turning in his sleep, unable to get comfortable. Shiro moves away from the fire to lay beside him, reaching out to stroke Lance's hair. The line between his brow smooths out after a while, the young man curling in against the warmth of the dragon beside him.

 

**\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---**

_ The island is burning. The comfortable home build in the cave is smoldering to ash and there's a handsome man standing tall and proud with the torch that created ruin. Lotor is smiling as Lance's world burns. _

“ _ No!” Lance watches the tapestry fall, a shower of sparks gusting into the air. “Stop, please!” _

“ _ I'm taking you home,” Lotor says, his voice so much different than Shiro's. “You are mine, a trophy of my victory.” _

_ Lance shakes his head. He is no trophy. He belongs to no one but himself. He doesn't want to go with Lotor. “No, Lotor.” _

_ As the flames rise up around them Lance jerks away, stumbling a step only to have Lotor's hand wrap around his arm like a vice. “You are mine,” the man repeats. “The dragon will die.” _

“ _ NO!” Horror washes over Lance like cold rain. “Lotor!” The flames blur and he sees a body slumped within the cave, his heart leaping into his throat as Lotor throws the torch into the fire. _

“ _ The dragon is dead!” _

_ Lance screams. _

**_\--- --- --- --- --- --- ---_ **

 

Lance wakes in a cold sweat, his heart hammering as flames lick the edges of his vision. The dream is fading but Lance's chest heaves as he draws in breath.

The fire is nothing but glowing embers. There's a dragging sound, something whispering across the smooth stone. Lance is on his feet before he can untangle from the blankets. “Shiro?”

He sees him, a silhouette against the moonlight that pours in the open mouth of the cave. Shiro's face is as blank as stone.

“Where are you going?” Lance asks, holding a thin sheet around his naked body. He aches in places he never has before but it's a feeling he wouldn't give up for anything in the world. It's a feeling he and Shiro created together, beneath a canopy of stars.

“Away.” The single word is like a sentence. “Lotor will be here for you soon. You will leave this place and think of it no more.”

Dread washes through Lance. “What?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Why would you say that?”

Shiro won't look at him, not even when Lance takes a step closer. He faces the rising moon, shoulders tight with tension. “Your heart calls for him, even in your dreams. It is only a matter of time.”

“Shiro,” Lance says, taking another step forward. “No, I—I'd only explain. That I—”

“You cannot stop it,” Shiro cuts him off. “Your heart calls him and he will answer. Only a fool would not.”

Without waiting for a reply Shiro walks out of the cave and into the night. Lance is quick to follow, the sheet dragging on the stone as he hurries after the dragon. “Shiro, wait!”

But the only thing he sees are embers burning out in the sky, the dragon indistinguishable from the night.

Lance's eyes water but he refuses to cry. He won't.

He looks around the cave for a distraction.

 

* * *

  
  


The ship slices through the calm water, navigating through a field of ice and the thick fog that lingers above the water. The men are wary, having been out for so long without a single sign of the prince they are searching for nor the dragon they hunt.

The man leading the ship narrows his eyes, listening intently to the silence. He calls for a slight change in course, the front of the ship cutting through the water with purpose.

No one notices the creature stalking them overhead. Glowing eyes watch the ship sail the wrong way, moving further and further from the island sanctuary.

The beast does not attack. It wheels around in the sky and soars higher, powerful wings working harder as it flies faster, back the way it came.

 

* * *

 

When Shiro approaches the cave Lance is ready. He watches Shiro's eyes sweep over the spacious room and Lance lifts the book overhead before throwing it at him.

It thunks hard against Shiro's shoulder and he cries out, whirling around to see Lance perched on the flat rocks where they've stored a few trunks and empty barrels.

Lance grabs a metal goblet from the pile and lobs it at the dragon. “You stupid lizard!”

Shiro just barely manages to dodge the projectile. “Lance!”

“No, you don't get to talk!” Lance throws a matching goblet and it misses, rolling across the floor. He scowls. “You idiot. You don't know a damn thing!”

Shiro holds up his hands. “Lance, please.”

“I said,” Lance huffs, picking up a large silver platter. He holds it above his head and tosses it down. It doesn't even get close to Shiro but that's beside the point. Throwing this stuff is actually helping his pent up emotions. “No talking!” Lance grabs a few more things and tosses them down, a small pile of bent dinnerware and metal forming a few feet from Shiro.

By the time Lance has run out of things to throw his shoulders ache and his chest heaves with the exertion, his lower half throbbing. There are tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, of frustration and anger that's slowly been dying out.

“Are you finished?”

Lance wipes an arm across his forehead. “I'd throw you off the stupid cliff but that'd be pretty pointless.” He walks over to the slope of stone and lowers himself to sit, carefully sliding down until he lands on his feet.

Before he can straighten up Shiro crushes him in a hug, warm and smelling like the salt of the sea air. Lance's hands grip at his bare skin, afraid if he lets go Shiro will disappear again. “You smell like blood,” Shiro rumbles into his hair.

“I kicked some rocks earlier,” Lance confesses in a mumble.

Shiro pulls away and takes a step back. It feels like an entire valley is between them. “I saw Lotor.”

Lance's heart plummets into the pit of his stomach. “You did?” He watches Shiro nod and turn to look out over the rolling sea. “Where?” He whispers, dreading the answer.

“Leagues away.” Shiro is frowning. “The storm must have blown them off their course.” He turns back to Lance, his face blank. “But I can take you to him.”

Lance steps back as if slapped. “Take me to him?”

“Your heart is guiding him here, but the elements are against you.” Shiro looks regretful, a dark shadow falling over him. The air heats around them, rolling off the dragon in waves. “I had hoped to have one more night,” he says softly, then shakes his head. His hands curl into tight fists at his sides. “I was foolish. Why would anyone want to be here? To be trapped with a monster.”

Reaching forward Lance slaps Shiro across the face, his head snapping to the side. “You are even more foolish for assuming things that hold no truth.”

Shiro's wide eyes fix on the prince. “But Lotor... you—”

“My heart does  _ not _ guide that man here,” Lance shouts, angry and pleading at once. His emotions are getting the better of him, everything building up like a tower of seashells that could topple in an instant. “Lotor is nothing to me!”

Shiro's skin ripples and sparks ignite in the air around them as he tries to stop the oncoming transformation. A guttural growl rips from the dragon's throat and Lance takes a step back, tipping over a rock and falling hard onto the ground.

The transformation rips through Shiro and the sparks fall in a shower around Lance, not a single one causing any kind of pain. The dragon's body hovers over Lance, wings spread wide and golden eyes narrowing on him as it growls like a predator. This form is just as unfamiliar with Lance as Lance is with it.

“Shiro,” Lance says as he sits up, kneeling on the stone. “My heart guides  _ you _ here. It brings you back each time you leave.” The dragon has stopped growling, eyes fixed on Lance. “You are so used to to people fearing you, hating you for what you are.” Lance smiles up at Shiro, lifting a hand toward him. “Won't you let me love you?”

Lowering his neck slowly Shiro watches Lance and his never-ending patience and overflowing affection. Warm fingers brush smooth scales and Lance smiles, petting behind Shiro's eye and guiding his head down into his lap. “Let me get used to this form, too,” Lance murmurs, laying his head on Shiro's and sliding his fingers over the onyx and midnight scales. He presses a kiss there. “I love you, all of you.  _ Because _ you're you.”

The dragon is rumbling with that same purring growl Lance has heard Shiro make in his human form, although now it spreads through his whole body. Petting his fingers along Shiro's scales Lance hums, letting his tears fall onto dark scales and watching them dry up in puffs of steam.

Time passes slowly but Lance doesn't mind. He curls around Shiro's form, murmuring to him and letting his sleeplessness catch up with him. The next time he opens his eyes Shiro is carrying him toward the bed and lying him down, the solid warmth of his body pressing Lance into the comfortable pillows and blankets.

“I love you,” Lance says again, sliding a hand along Shiro's chest and letting it rest over his heart. “I love all of you, your stubbornness and your dragon.”

“Love,” Shiro murmurs, taking Lance's wrist and lifting his hand. He presses a kiss to the palm, over the scar healed long ago. “Let me show you?”

Lance nods and Shiro moves between his legs, hand warm on Lance's thigh to guide them apart. He presses his lips below the navel, peppering kisses down to the crux of the prince’s thigh and back up. 

Fingers tangle in long hair when Shiro takes Lance into his mouth, feels him tremble beneath the touch. He sucks and kisses the prince’s sweet flesh, drawing him to the brink of pleasure and then easing away. 

Lifting his head Lance looks down, watching as Shiro spreads him and licks warm and wet at the place he had spilled within hours ago.

When their bodies come together as one there is no pain, only warmth and a feeling that blooms bright in Lance’s chest. He arches off the thick fabrics of the makeshift bed, wraps Shiro in his arms and buries his face into the warmth of his neck. Lance seeks out the dragon’s lips, kisses him softly as his body relaxes, accepting everything Shiro has to offer. 

They move like the rise and fall of rolling waves, Lance reduced to little gasps and soft moans as Shiro’s touch takes him apart. The second time they come together Lance rolls them to sit astride the dragon’s lap, hands reaching back to rest on Shiro’s knees as he lowers himself down, taking everything. 

In the morning Lance wakes to a solid warmth against him, Shiro’s body aligned perfectly flush with his own as light streams into the cave. He lifts a hand and gently moves a lock of hair out of Shiro’s face, fingertips tracing the slope of his nose. 

When Lance’s touch brushes along parted lips Shiro opens his eyes. The dragon’s gaze drifts along Lance’s neck and down, past the marks nipped over his collarbones and down his chest. “Good morning,” Lance smiles, leaning in to kiss Shiro softly. “You snore.” 

Growling low in his throat Shiro rolls Lance onto his back, soaking in the laughter the fills the cave. 

A while later Lance rolls onto his belly to watch Shiro pull on a pair of pants, body pleasantly sore and well loved. “Where are you going?” 

“There's another island not far from here. I want to bring you something.”

Lance perks up. “A surprise?” 

Shiro hums in answer, leaning down to capture Lance’s lips in a kiss. “Stay in bed. I’ll be back.” 

“I want to go check the nets,” Lance mumbles, stretching out when Shiro steps away. He lays his head down on the pillow and watches Shiro stretch his arms up. “Maybe we can take a bath when you return.” Looking over his shoulder Shiro offers a knowing grin and Lance snorts, burying his face into the fabric beneath him. “To wash up, you heathen,” he mumbles. 

“Mhm. We can do whatever you’d like,” Shiro agrees. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.” 

Waving him off Lance watches Shiro leave the cavern and feels the smoky gust of heat of his transformation. He lounges around for a few more minutes before getting up grabbing one of his longer tunics. 

Mumbling to himself Lance slides the fabric over his head and gets to his feet, stretching sore muscles.  “I’ll have breakfast ready when he gets back.” 

He makes his way outside and down the narrow path that leads to the sandy shoreline. 

 

* * *

 

Lance doesn’t hear the arrival of the boat, nor the footsteps across the sand. He’s thigh deep in the clear water when an unfamiliar voice calls his name. 

Looking up Lance’s stomach drops when he sees Lotor standing in the sand a few feet away. There’s a wild look about the Prince of Daibazaal, his gaze fixed on Lance. “I’ve finally found you.” 

“Prince Lotor,” Lance breathes, eyes flicking to the sword at Lotor’s hip. “I...you..” He sees movement behind the the Prince and realizes that a small ship is anchored just off shore, more than a dozen men watching them. 

“Where is it?” Lotor says suddenly and Lance refocuses his attention. One hand rests on the handle of his sword, Lotor’s sharp eyes looking around.  “Where is the beast?” 

“Shiro?” Lance whispers, but the unfamiliar name makes Lotor’s face twist unhappily. “The dragon,” Lance corrects, suddenly realizing his lack of clothing and trying to tug the tunic down as he wades out of the water. “The dragon is gone.”

Lotor looks unconvinced although he releases his sword and shrugs off his cloak. “Gone?” When he drapes it across Lance’s shoulders the heavy weight of it feels oppressing, nearly suffocating.

“Gone.” Lance’s palms are damp and his heart is racing. “How did you get here?” 

Turning his attention on Lance and his state of undress Lotor watches the younger prince shiver. “It was not an easy feat,” he confesses, reaching out to take Lance’s arm. “We must go.” 

Lotor’s touch feels wrong and Lance jerks away on instinct, suddenly under harsh scrutiny. “I don’t want to leave,” Lance blurts out, Lotor’s eyes widening. “I—this is my home. It’s peaceful here and I don’t mind living out the rest of my days on this island.” 

_ ‘Go,’  _ Lance pleads silently.  _ ‘Just go and leave us alone. We’re happy here.’ _

Instead Lotor reaches out and grabs Lance’s arm again, this time tighter. “Prince Lance, there is nothing here for you,” he says quietly, disbelief heavy in his voice. “To live here alone, it’s unthinkable. You have a family—a duty to me.” 

Anger burns through Lance as his future is threatened, sudden and swift like a storm. “A duty that was forced upon me,” he snaps, trying to jerk his arm back. “Release me.” 

“Heavens and Hell, the dragon still lives, doesn’t it?” Lotor yanks Lance closer, then heads toward the boat he arrived in. “You’re under some kind of spell. An enchantment.” 

Lance digs his heels in the sand. “Lotor, let me go! Just leave, pretend you never found me! I’m happy here, with Shiro.” 

“Shiro?” Lotor whirls around suddenly. “Don’t tell me,” he starts, gaze drifting across Lance’s neck and taking in the small bruises and scratches that highlight his skin. Disgust hollows his eyes and lights a fuse of anger. “The dragon has touched you,” he grits out, grabbing the cloak and ripping it away from Lance. It lands in a pile on the sand. 

Small marks cover the canvas of Lance’s body, made by skillful lips and teeth and fingers. He does not regret or shy away from them, nor does he let Lotor’s disgust affect him. “I  _ wanted  _ him to touch me,” Lance says, voice steady and even although his stomach roils anxiously. “I still do.” 

“Dark magic has overtaken you,” Lotor sneers before yanking Lance across the sand. “I will find a cure,” he vows, ignoring Lance’s struggles. “And I will take you as my bride, damaged and used as you are.” 

Stepping in close Lance jerks at his arm and digs his elbow into Lotor’s side, stumbling back when he’s released. “I am not damaged,” he says, chin held high. “And I will never be your bride.” 

Lotor’s shock lasts only a few seconds before he draws his sword. A splashing sound tells him that Lotor’s men are coming to his aid. A cold feeling sweeps through Lance and he takes a step back, Lotor quickly advancing to erase the distance between them.

A dark smile settles on the other prince’s lips. “It will be me who has you, or no one at all.” 

 

* * *

  
  
With his hands bound behind his back Lance struggles at the ropes, the coarse fibers rubbing his skin raw. His protests are muffed against the gag, eyes flicking toward the men on the small boat. 

They’ve been sailing for what feels like hours, the grey mist heavy and ominous. Lance had woken to find himself at the bow of the ship, an ache radiating from the back of his head. He scans the ship and its crew, preparing himself for a fight. 

When there are only a few men at the bow Lance bends one knee and kicks the other out suddenly, slamming his foot into a deckhand’s knee so it buckles. Shoving his body to the side Lance spins, bound hands grabbing for the dagger at the man’s waist. Skilled fingers spin it and he slices through the ropes, stumbling backward as the surrounding men turn their attention to him. 

Lotor’s face darkens as he approaches and he takes a step forward, watching Lance take one back. “What do you hope to accomplish here?” 

“I’m not going back with you,” Lance says, the backs of his knees bumping into the bow of the boat. Angry tears sting the corners of his eyes. “I’m going back to Shiro. You must take me back,  _ now _ .” 

“The dragon?” Lotor spits the word like a curse. “You’d go back to a monster?” 

“He is no monster.” Lance steps onto the edge of the boat, one hand gripping the fluttering sail. “Take me back, Lotor. You gain nothing here.” 

“Grab him,” Lotor commands the man nearest Lance with a jerk of his head. 

Bringing the dagger up Lance holds it at his own abdomen. The deckhand pauses, eyes flicking back to Lotor as he hesitates. 

Calling his bluff Lotor’s face twists into a sneer. “You wouldn’t.” 

“You don’t know me at all.” Fingers tightening on the handle of the dagger Lance inhales through his nose, pressing the blade against the soft fabric of his tunic. He begins to sing softly, lips forcing out the ancient song he last heard on his wedding day. Pain flares brightly as he cuts into himself, blood soaking into the soft linen. 

“Enough!” Lotor holds out an arm and the deckhands step back. “Stop this foolishness! I am taking you back home.” 

A tear slides down Lance’s cheek when he shakes his head, still singing the song that will call Shiro back to him. The melody is haunting as it grows louder, drifting with the snowflakes that fall from the darkened sky. 

“Lance,” Lotor says softly, hands up as he takes a step forward. “Lance, please. Think of your honor, your family.” 

The tune falters but Lance keeps singing through hiccuped breaths. Lotor advances and Lance’s eyes narrow, rage flaring as the blade presses against his skin once more. New blood trickles down his stomach. 

The wind shifts. Snowflakes change direction and something flickers in Lance’s chest, fighting against the pain. A gust of wind hurdles across the water and slams into the boat, whipping the sails around and making the wood creak.

Lance loses his grip on the dagger and it drops into the sea, head whipping up to trace the shape in the clouds. 

“No, this isn’t possible,” Lotor is saying, the deckhands and crew trying to secure the boat as the water churns. “No!” 

“Shiro,” Lance says breathlessly, a dark figure weaving through the air. A warm feeling ignites within his chest. “Shiro! I’m here!” 

“I will not lose you to a monster,” Lotor growls, pushing men out of his way as he stalks toward Lance. The water pitches and he stumbles, Lance wobbling on the edge of the boat. 

He looks behind him and sees the dragon cut through the fog, scales like endless midnight and eyes flashing gold. It flies low across the water, heading straight toward them. 

Lance turns back to Lotor. “You never had me to begin with,” he confesses, just as the dragon swoops up behind him. 

Sharp talons wrap carefully around Lance’s middle and lift him up, wings pumping through the air and carrying them away from the boat. The pain in Lance’s middle flares at the movement but he is happier than he’s ever been, hands grabbing at Shiro’s smooth scales.

They set down in the mouth of the cavern and Lance drops to his knees, pressing a hand to his bleeding wound.

Warm hands are there within seconds, Shiro’s chest still glowing like hot coals as he worries over the human prince. “What have you done?”

Abandoning his wound Lance throws his arms around Shiro's neck and pulls him into a hug. “You came for me,” he mumbles into Shiro's neck, the smell of sweat and smoke filling his lungs. It’s comforting, the scent of home.

The glowing heat across Shiro's skin fades. “Of course I did.” He noses Lance's hair, hand pressing gently against his side. “You’re hurt.” Sliding his arm beneath Lance and lifting him Shiro walks them out of the cave and toward the bathing springs. With practiced ease he lowers the prince onto the flat rocks warmed by the sun.

Leaning back a little Lance winces. “It's not that bad.” He looks down, tugging the hem of his tunic up. “It doesn't even hu— _ ah _ !” Shiro steps into the water in front of Lance and licks across the wound, tongue warm and careful. Lance lets out a few shaky breaths. “Shiro.” Each swipe of his tongue is both painful and gentle, Lance’s fingers threading in Shiro’s hair and brushing through it. “I…hmm."

Once the wound is sufficiently cleaned Shiro takes his hands next, teeth cutting away the remaining cuffs of rope. With his calloused hand Shiro cradles Lance’s as if made of glass, kissing the skin rubbed raw and bleeding.

Once finished he kisses his way up Lance’s arm, past the bruised ring of teeth marks on his shoulder and up his neck. “I found you easier than I find the sun rising from the sea.” Golden eyes warm in the filtered light, Shiro’s hand settling on Lance’s lower back. He traces a circular pattern there. “You are my sun and my sky, my moon and stars.”

Lance smiles, leaning in to rest his forehead against Shiro’s. “So poetic,” he teases. He lets his eyes drift shut, forearms resting on Shiro’s shoulders and fingers tangling in his loose hair. Lance tugs lightly and guides Shiro’s head back enough that he can claim the dragon’s mouth in a kiss.

Scooting Lance forward Shiro guides them down into the water and sits Lance astride his lap. As the warm water envelops Lance’s cut he hisses at the sting, Shiro taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into Lance’s mouth. He takes until Lance pushes back, the two lazily taking turns to lead and guide the other as the kisses deepen. 

A while later Lance sits between Shiro’s legs, the two of them facing the water that spills over the cliff side as the sun sets. Shiro’s arm is snug around Lance’s hips, fingers tracing the smooth skin just above the wound. “You didn’t wreck the ship,” Lance murmurs, head resting back on Shiro’s shoulder. “You didn’t kill Lotor.” 

“There was no point.” Shiro kisses the side of Lance’s head. “He will never find the island now, we are safe.  _ You  _ are safe.” Shiro smiles when he feels Lance hum, feels toes pressing against his own beneath the water. “And there were innocent men on the ship. Life should not be taken away needlessly.” 

Sitting up a little Lance turns to look at Shiro, the sun’s descent softening his smile. “I love you,” he says simply, lifting a hand to brush some of Shiro’s hair behind an ear. “You are a good man, Shiro. And a dashing dragon.” 

A light flush of pink spreads across the bridge of Shiro’s nose and he leans in to nuzzle it against Lance’s, making the human man laugh. 

“Wait,” Lance says suddenly, splashing Shiro when he licks a stripe up his neck. He pushes Shiro’s face away with a wet hand as he laughs. “Did you get my surprise?” 

“Your surprise,” Shiro repeats, shaking his head fondly. “Of course you’d be worried about that. Even after being stolen away and wounded.” Lance snorts. 

He shifts until he’s straddling Shiro’s lap, knees snug against his waist. “Well?”

Lifting his hand from the water Shiro opens it palm up. A circular ring sits there in a small puddle of water, the metal as dark as the night sky. “Go on,” he says when Lance gives him a questioning look, watching as it is lifted carefully. 

Lance inspects the smooth surface, finding tiny flecks of silver on the inside of the ring. When Shiro reaches for his hand Lance guides it up, then gives the ring to Shiro when he requests it. “It is made from the scales closest to my heart,” Shiro says, sliding it down onto Lance’s finger. It fits perfectly, a ring of dark scales resting over Lance’s skin. “I want you to hold onto it for me.” 

Lance blinks his wide eyes, holding his hand up so the scales catch in the fading light. “It’s beautiful,” he murmurs. He looks at Shiro with a growing warmth in his cheeks. “I love it.” 

Shiro smiles softly, leaning in to press his lips to the ring on on Lance’s finger. “And I love you.” 

Tilting his head up Lance catches Shiro’s lips in a kiss, smiling as he wraps his arms around the dragon’s neck.

The sun dips below the horizon and sends a flash of light over the sea, a good omen for a bright future. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 💕
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://kuroshiroganee.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/Kuroshiroganee)


End file.
